The Eternal Battle
by fortysix past
Summary: Uncensored version of Chapter 6: The Lost Memory from Mine of Ashes.  Rated for blood, gore, and other violences of war.  Remember.


This is the uncensored version of Chapter 6 - The Lost Memory of Mine of Ashes.

**Spoiler Warning for Deathly Hallows.**

* * *

**The Lost Memory**  
_For Remembrance_

"Harry?" She interrupted the quill-scratching quiet from where she sat sideways in the overstuffed chair at 12 Grimmauld Place, the Quaffle nestled snugly in her lap.

Harry looked up from behind his desk, pushing the bridge of his glasses up on his nose with a thin finger, his quill held poised mid-sentence. "Yeah?"

"Will you ever tell me what happened?"

He frowned incomprehensibly as he watched her slide off the arm chair and cross the short distance to his desk. She halted, the fingertips of her gloveless hand idly resting on the glass surface he wrote on.

"What happened that night," she elaborated.

Harry sighed and set his quill down, wiping the ink-stains from his fingers with a rag. He knew exactly what 'that night' meant; Ginny had only been pestering Ron—much to Ron's dismay—about it for the past month. He shrugged and set the document he had be writing aside to dry. "Ginny," he replied patiently, "Ron's told you what happened a dozen times already."

"I know," she whispered and looked away, her expression distant. "But I want to hear it from you."

Harry relented under Ginny's imploring stare and leaned back in his chair. Hermione had warned him that Ginny would ask him to fill in the gaps in her memory. "Alright," he said. "How much do you remember?"

Ginny smiled thankfully and drummed her fingers as she considered the question with a thoughtful squint. "Mostly bits and snatches after I left the Room of Requirement."

Leaning forward and resting his chin on clasped hands propped up on the desk, he surveyed her carefully. Harry stood up with a sigh and walked around the desk to lead her gently by the arm back to the chair. He removed the Quaffle she left there and pulled up the Ottoman and sat on it so that their faces were level with each other. She waited patiently, pulling up her legs into a cross-legged position on the overstuffed cushion.

"Ginny, I wasn't really there to see what happened to you," he warned her.

She shook her head. "It's fine, I just want to know what you were there for."

With an inward grimace of guilt at his lack of presence at Ginny's side during the battle, he bit his lip as he searched his memory. "Well, we were all in the Room of Requirement trying to find the last Horcrux and..." He stopped when he saw the smirk on Ginny's face. "What?"

"Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived tells all of the fateful battle of Hogwarts and what really happened," Ginny mock-quoted as she waved her hands across an imaginary newspaper headline in the air between them. "Anyway, go on."

Harry grinned and obliged. "Well, anyway, Crabbe used Fiendfyre which destroyed the last Horcrux and then..." He paused, swallowing with difficulty before he recounted Fred's death. Ginny's face turned a shade paler as she looked away and listened in silence, nodding occasionally at the ghosted account of Harry's memory. He told her of how he saw Snape's memories in the Pensieve, that he had survived a second Killing Curse, the way Neville drew the sword of Gryffindor from the Sorting Hat and slew the snake with it. His eyes shone with admiration when he recounted the story of her mother defeating Bellatrix, refusing the help of any other witch or wizard.

He could tell from her expression that she was vaguely disappointed at the lack of description or perhaps she was disappointed by the frequency of events involving her, he couldn't say. Some of his own memories were blurred by the adrenaline and the clear set tunnel vision of determination he was influenced by throughout the battle. When he finished, she sat in silent contemplation, staring blankly at the wall. Privately, he was immensely relieved that she didn't cry.

"So..." she said, her voice strained. She trailed off to nothing and Harry shifted on the Ottoman with an expectant look on his face.

"If you want," he offered cautiously, "you could probably owl Hermione and ask what happened. I reckon she wouldn't mind."

Ginny breathed a soft chuckle. "I already did." She smirked as Harry's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "The parchment I asked you to give her."

"Oh." He stood. "Well, she asked about you when I visited yesterday. Maybe you should write her more often."

She nodded absently and took the Quaffle back in her lap as she positioned herself sideways across the arms of the armchair and stared up at the ceiling with avid fascination. She bit her lip as she breathed deep, long controlled breaths. "Harry?" She twisted in the armchair to look at him. "Can I borrow your Firebolt?"

Harry blinked, halfway between his desk and the chair, caught off-guard. He hesitated briefly. "Yeah, sure, Ginny. It's in the—"

"I know," she grinned and leapt off the chair to run upstairs to what used to be Sirius' old bedroom retrieve it.

The Black house had since been entirely renovated to Harry's tastes by Kreacher who was now more than happy to do to his new master's bidding. All of the strange and occasionally dangerous things that Ginny and her family had been working hard to remove during their stay of a summer were banished completely. Even the old portrait of Sirius' mother was removed, although how Kreacher managed to remove it was anyone's guess. Aside from the house's most basic structure, 12 Grimmauld Place resembled absolutely nothing of what it looked like only months ago.

Stopping just short of the Firebolt resting on its wall-mounted brackets, Ginny let her eyes travel earnestly over the smooth ash wood handle, the gold trim, and the exceedingly well maintained tail twigs. Reverently lifting it from the brackets and into her hands, she let her fingers glide over the diamond-hard polish, relishing in the perfection of the broomstick. The floorboards creaked behind her and she spun around sharply, her hands reflexively clutching the Firebolt's handle.

She relaxed. "Hi, Harry."

Harry smiled from the doorway and nodded his greeting as he watched Ginny turn her attention back to the Firebolt. "You can keep it for now, if you like," he said, his tone nonchalant as he looked away. He could see her shocked gaze jerk towards him in the corner of his eye. "I mean, it's not like I'm using it much now with work and everything. Besides, league trials are coming up. That is," he drifted off slightly, uncertainty in his voice, "if you plan—"

Ginny pulled him into a kiss, effectively silencing him, Firebolt clutched in her gloved hand with the other behind Harry's neck. "Thank you," she breathed through a smile. She stepped back a little, her bright brown eyes gleaming with excitement.

Harry grinned, watching her shift her weight from one foot to the other in eager anticipation of the night's treasures the Firebolt would bring her. With a rueful shake of his head, he stepped aside and let her pelt by, down the stairs, and out the door, a shouted, "Thank you!" called over her shoulder as the door closed behind her.

---

_"We make war that we may live in peace."_

– _**Aristotle**_

_---_

The wind swept through her shoulder-length flame-red hair as she sped through the forest, weaving between the trees and pitching around their thick branches, her heart racing with exhilaration at the pure adrenaline rush the Firebolt brought her. The early winter wind bit through the balaclava shielding her face from the chilling air that rippled through her robes. Only yesterday Harry returned from Hermione's and gave the Firebolt to her on an indefinite loan, stating that he was too busy to ride it as he spent most of his time working at the Auror Office.

Ginny smirked as she added an extra burst of speed, streaking by a clearing. She swerved around and braked hard, stopping inches from the thin sheet of frozen dew covering the forest floor. Grinning triumphantly, she affectionately rubbed the handle of the broomstick as she dismounted. Breathing in the scenery in puffy white clouds, her boots crunched down onto the frost-hardened earth, her gaze revelling in the warm sun beams shining through the bare winter trees. Slipping the bag from her shoulders, she set it down at the base of a nearby tree, propping the broomstick up against the trunk as she cleared a small spot with a swift kick of her feet.

She had been planning this escape from the Burrow for days and she woke up especially early that morning to get away from her omnipresent parents and her overprotective brothers. Laying out quilts enchanted with spells to keep her warm and dry, she wrapped herself up in them where she sat, her calm bright brown eyes taking in her serene surroundings. Her leather shin guards creaked as she stripped them off, tossing them into a pile with one leather gauntlet. She tightened the remaining gauntlet absently around her arm as she shifted from her seat to rummage through her bag.

Retrieving one of Mrs. Weasley's home-made flapjacks and a bottle of water, she bit into the fruit and grain bar as she began to plan her next move until her eyelids drooped in the afternoon sun, fatigue of an early morning catching up to her as she drifted to sleep.

---

_"The blackbird sings to him, 'Brother, brother,_

_If this be the last song you shall sing,_

_Sing well, for you may not sing another;_

_Brother, sing.'"_

– _**Julian Grenfell, Into Battle**_

_---_

The dark sky and its looming clouds overhead were ignited by great flashes of green, red, violet, and blue as Hermione stumbled valiantly over the rubble of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, now turned battleground. A hand roughly pulled back the strands of hair in her eyes as she searched the once familiar grounds in a low crouch, scurrying from one hiding place to the next as jets of light streaked by her.

She was left in the fray without purpose or direction, only to survive, the last Horcrux destroyed by Neville and the reappearance of the familiar ruby-hilted sword. And Harry... She didn't dare think to believe that he had died at the hands of Lord Voldemort. She would never believe the lie.

A streak of red hair slipped by the corner of her eyes and she moved around the wreckage of the collapsed banister to follow it. Eyes hardening in resolve, she gripped her wand and shot forward, slipping on the emerald-covered floors as she determinedly made her way amidst the battle.

_Keep moving, breathe, think!_ she told herself over and over under her short breath, letting it reverberate in her head, in her mind. Marble rock fragments blasted over her head, showering down on her as she ducked for cover.

She gritted her teeth, breathing deep. She darted out, weaved to the next hiding place—her breath catching when she saw the glazed eyes of the dead body hidden there staring expectantly at her—then moved on in slow progression to the battlefront where Voldemort and his Death Eaters took on the Hogwartians. The wall exploded beside her, flattening her to the ground as bits and pieces flew with indiscriminate malice.

Her cheek bled from a cut, her ankle felt sluggish as she dragged herself across the floor to the shelter of a fallen statue just as a red jet of light crackled and connected to the spot she had been just seconds previous. Panting and wiping the grime from her tear-encrusted face, she desperately clung to the walnut and dragon heartstring wand of Bellatrix Lestrange, wishing bitterly that it was her own vine wood wand she were wielding.

A hand clawed at her robes and she whirled, wand ready to attack the assailant. "H-help," a feeble voice rasped, "H-help me."

She dropped to the floor at the man's side. "Shh... it's going to be alright," she whispered, her lies grinding her teeth as she let her eyes wander over what was left of the lower half of the man's body. It was wrecked and mangled, the one remaining stump of a leg bent in sickly wrong angles. She looked away as bile threatened to rise to her mouth. Holding her breath with all her courage under the helpless gaze of the fallen Hogwartian, she uttered a Sleeping Charm on the man before she turned and emptied her stomach over the floor, the yellow-orange of the pumpkin juice she had shared with Ron and Harry hours earlier splattering onto the toecaps of her battered tennis shoes.

Wiping her lips with the back of her hand, anger welled in her as she caught glimpses of the Dark Lord duelling three at a time and without thought or rationality, she strode purposefully forward, not bothering to duck for cover as jets of light whizzed by her, singeing her robes, her hair. Her wand waved wildly, casting unspoken jinxes and curses and hexes just as the ground beside her exploded and she was knocked aside, her world spinning as she pulled herself upright, groping for her wand. The remains of her last meal was on display in front of her, her brown hair tickling the lumpy puddle of half-digested food.

She crouched, slipping on her own bile as she dove for cover, the Killing Curse buzzing just inches from her as she fought the rising panic in her chest. Her fingers searched blindly through rock and rubble, the liquids spattered across newly collapsed smooth marble shears sickeningly warm against her skin. Her hands found something soft and flesh-like; her gaze followed it to a pair of empty eyes and she stared into them impassively. Her eyes darted to the corpse's wand hand and she pried the trivial looking wooden stick from the dead witch's fingers, whispering an unheard apology as she pulled her wits together and ran in Voldemort's direction, preparing herself for confrontation.

She tripped over hands, arms, legs, feet but she ploughed on, wiping the tears that seemed to stream endlessly down her cheeks with furious strokes. Her cheek stung as the salty water mingled with blood, irritating her numbed sense of feeling as she crawled by a boy with a familiar face, whimpering as he stared emptily at his missing arm. His eyes caught her sympathy and he strangled out a wailing moan, beseeching her to help him. She barely stopped for long enough to cast the same Sleeping Charm she had cast only minutes ago—was it minutes? It felt like seconds—and turned away.

She passed by Professor Slughorn, taking cover in the shadow of a fallen rock cavity as she stalked the path of the Dark Lord. She threw a hex overhead, then a jinx behind, a curse to the side and another curse to clear the way, duck, sidestep, laid low for a three or four cracks of spellwork, then stood and started over again. It was a familiar pattern, like weaving a quilt, knitting an intricate design of impossible prediction, as she gained ground with each heartbeat that pounded once, twice, then was lost forever.

A shrivelled leaf crunched beneath the sole of her shoe as she moved forward and nearly stepped on Ginny Weasley's wand hand. She looked down mid-step and that second of hesitation cost her. Thrown back by some unknown spell, she slammed into a collapsed marble pillar and crumpled to the floor, her wand clattering uselessly beside her as the world closed in on her.

A gentle hand on her shoulder shook her. "Hermione, wake up!" Luna yelled into her ear.

Her head pounded as she groaned and came to in a circle of rubble. For a heartbeat, she thought she was home, safe, warm, but the sizzling static air around her that buzzed with spells brought her to reality. Hazel-brown eyes gazed at the bleak, grey ground that stretched on in front of her, punctuated by the flashes of light and blazing tapestries that once hung high and proud from the beams of the Great Hall overhead, now ignited and reduced to nothing more than fuel for fire.

_Fire_. "Ginny," she uttered and burst forward, stumbling as she slipped on the uneven floor.

"Slow down," Luna steadied her with a hand on her arm as Hermione scanned their despairing world.

Then, finally, she spotted the red-headed girl in the masses, battling her very best from behind a fallen wooden beam. The knotted grain in the wood was blown to matchwork in places, splinters piercing angrily outwards at the spell-charged air as curses were thrown at it. The ground at Ginny's feet blasted away, showering everything in yards with dust and Bellatrix Lestrange raised the vine wood wand she wielded.

"_Avada Ked_—"

"_Stupefy!_" Hermione cried, lashing out her wand as she ran to Ginny's aid, Luna close at her heels.

Ginny whirled to look for her saviours only be tackled to the ground by Hermione—"Get down!"—just as a bolt of blue crackled the air where she once was. Luna threw a curse as they picked themselves off the floor and ran for cover. The beam behind them was obliterated into nothing more than matchsticks and sawdust as the ground exploded at their heels. They threw themselves behind the broken head of a toppled statue.

Crouched behind it, Hermione panted, wheezing as she gulped down dust-filled air and Bellatrix's footsteps drew nearer. The woman's cackling and childish taunting sounded like nails on a chalkboard as the three girls huddled together in wide-eyed indecision. Her heart pounded as a sick, dreading feeling took over her at the sight of her empty hands. Her wand was gone. She looked desperately back to their spell-scorched path, her hands cutting on the rock and debris as she scrambled and crawled on hands and knees to find it.

"_Crucio!_" shrieked the Dark witch, blasting the side of the disfigured statue head. Marble exploded and its pieces were sent rocketing outward like miniature missiles.

Hermione froze as she felt her arm drop to her side without her bidding and stared blankly at the deep gash in her arm where a rock fragment had embedded itself. It had torn through muscle and tissue, scraping through flesh to the pale white bone in her upper arm (called the humerus bone, she recalled from one of the medical encyclopaedias she browsed through from her parents' expansive library). She stared in demented fascination at the way her muscles contracted and expanded, like earthworms underground as blood trickled down and soaked into her already utterly destroyed robes.

She had expected it to drive her half-mad with pain, but no such feeling came, only unfeeling paralysis. She clenched her jaw tightly and groped the floor in search of her wand, her numb, raw fingers of her left hand clumsily enclosing around the unfamiliar piece of finely crafted wood.

"_Lumos,_" she whispered, but the strange wand merely sputtered in her unaccustomed hand.

"Hermione!" Ginny gasped as Hermione turned, her eyes wide on her horror stricken face as she stared unabashedly at the gaping wound in Hermione's arm.

Another curse shook the ground beneath them and whatever reaction Hermione could have garnered in that moment was by reflex and instinct as she dragged Ginny out from their hiding place and pulled her behind a half-destroyed desk from the Transfiguration Room army. A pillar creaked and groaned on its once solid pedestal and crashed to the ground with a resounding boom in a cloud of dust over their previous position.

"Luna!" they cried, picking their way through the chunks of rock that littered the floor, falling, slipping, stumbling along as they wept and shifted the debris in search of their friend.

Bellatrix shrieked infuriation at a well aimed jinx sent over a rock face, causing Ginny and Hermione's gazes to jerk over to the jinx's source.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

They dropped flat and dragged each other to the ephemeral safety of cover. "Hermione, your arm," Ginny moaned in despair as she tried to tend to it, but Hermione jerked out of reach.

"Later," she gasped breathlessly as she doubled over, panting as her pounding heart rung in her ears. "We have to move." Another curse scorched over their heads. "I'm going set up a diversion and get her attention elsewhere," she said between breaths as she began frantically formulating a plan her head. "I need to get closer."

Ginny's eyes hardened and her jaw set. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to get my wand back."

Hermione half-turned when Ginny's hand clasped on her shoulder. "What about me?" Ginny's voice quivered as she yelled over the din, raw and hoarse.

She hesitated as she looked over her shoulder at Ginny, then gave in to rationality; she would never be able to manage on her own. "When I get close enough, disarm her." They pressed against the wall shielding them from Bellatrix's attacks reflexively as something was lobbed overhead and exploded only yards away. "Find Luna, and stick together."

Ginny nodded and scrambled away, leaving Hermione's half-whispered words in the dust.

"Be safe, Ginny."

They split up, Ginny sprinting around the wreckage of the fallen pillar, using it as a shield between herself and Bellatrix while Hermione clamoured through the broken battleground, circling the witch until her vantage point was close enough. She slumped to the floor, her back against the smooth surface of an overturned table, counting her breaths as she sucked in oxygen hungrily. She peeked around the corner, watching Bellatrix whirl with a gleeful snarl.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" the witch sneered in a mocking sing-song voice, lashing out with an unspoken curse. Something fell with a sickening thud, the vine wood wand glistening in the brief wandlight and the light streaming from the enchanted ceiling above. Two screams rung out, and Hermione's heart leapt to her throat. _Ginny, Luna..._

Barrelling recklessly out of cover, she collided head-on with the witch, tackling Voldemort's lieutenant to the ground and grappled for her wand. "Give – that – back – to me!" she roared, yanking the vine wood wand clumsily with her left hand from Lestrange's clutches only to receive a bruising blow to the face. She flew backwards, the wand sent spinning across the floor. She watched its path with despairing desperation as it came to an abrupt halt under a worn satin shoe belonging to Bellatrix Lestrange.

Vaguely, she heard Ginny and Luna scream her name as they raced towards her and she backed away with her still functioning arm, her injured arm cradled against her chest as her eyes stared down the length of the wand in Bellatrix's hands. Her wand. The subtle but elegant bevelled engraving that encircled and entwined the wand from handle to tip was clearer than ever now, the chip at the side of its point from the time she was bowled over by a troll in the girl's bathrooms in her first year, the tiny bite marks that marred the centre of its length when a Mandrake decided to try eating it in one of her Herbology classes. She re-experienced the glorifying moment as if she found another piece of herself lying in a dusty old shop in Diagon Alley. The kind wandmaker nodded sagely at the wand's selection...

"Filthy Mudblood!" the witch spat. "_Avada Ked_—"

"_Expelliarmus!_" Ginny bellowed, sending the wand flying as Hermione took advantage of Bellatrix's momentary distraction to scramble to her feet and run for cover, the vine wood wand rising into the air and falling in a perfect arc into Ginny's outstretched hand.

"_Stupefy!_"

Luna and Ginny's combined spells sent Bellatrix flying backwards, foiling her attempt to pursue Hermione's frantic escape. Luna lagged behind, panting as Ginny skidded to a halt next to Hermione, dropping carelessly to her scraped knees.

"Hermione!" She grabbed the older girl by the shoulders and pulled her into a fierce hug. "What did you think you were _doing_?!" She withdrew sharply, her eyes wide as she scanned Hermione's bruised face, her hair matted with foreign blood.

Hermione smiled faintly and shook her head as she looked for Bellatrix's shadowy form, her true wand gripped in her hand. "The last thing she would expect."

The earth rocked and shuddered beneath them. Cries and screams and explosions rent the air. Unstable pieces of rock, from the largest boulder to the tiniest pebble, clattered and fell from their unstable positions as the three girls held onto each other for support.

"Let's go." Ginny's face was as grim as the tone of her voice as she helped Luna support Hermione and moved to the safety of a small blasted cavity in the wall. "We need an attack plan. Something that she won't see coming." She lowered herself to the ground next to Hermione who sat between her and Luna in the lull of battle.

"No, Ginny, you two aren't of—"

"Don't." Ginny's eyes flashed angrily as she set a finger on Hermione's lips to silence her. "Don't try to be like Harry and take us out of _our_ battle. This isn't just yours or Harry's fight any more. You _need_ our help."

Hermione's gaze flicked to Luna who sat beside her, panting, then stared at her lap in indecision. She sat up, straight, determined. "Let's go," she whispered, softly, firmly. She moved forward, Luna and Ginny following.

"What's the plan?" asked Luna. The ground shook from a spell that struck overhead and the cavity caved in behind them as a familiar cackle reverberated off the cracked stone floor in front of them.

"Move!"

They dashed to an over-turned table, aiming spells blindly in the general direction of the revived Bellatrix.

"_Crucio!_"

"_Impedimenta!_" Hermione retaliated as Ginny sent a jinx over her shoulder and Luna produced a Shield Charm. They pulled away from the table, taking cover from a pile of rubble.

Bellatrix stalked nearer, her spells blowing bits and pieces from the sides of the rock as Hermione panted for breath. Ginny and Luna threw curses, jinxes, and hexes one after another as Hermione lunged around the side of their shelter.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_" yelled Hermione. "_Stupefy!_" Her eyes widened as she saw Bellatrix's lips move. "Split!"

She grabbed Ginny's hand and dragged the girl towards her as Luna bolted in the opposite direction. The pile of rubble exploded, sending rock torpedoes in every direction.

They scrambled over broken fragments of the Great Hall, dodging curses as they shot spells back desperately.

"We have to get out of range," yelled Ginny as she ducked under the Killing Curse, pulling Hermione down by the hand with her and then led the way over the rock-strewn ground. Their worn shoes slipped and slid over the unstable floor as pebbles and stones turned under their rubber soles.

Hermione chanced a glance over her shoulder. "She's following!" she yelled back, yanking Ginny to the side by the arm as a spell crackled by.

Ginny glanced back and clenched her jaw. "We've got to slow her down. _Impedimenta!_" She flung the spell from her wand just as Hermione sent the Petrifying Spell. Without pausing to see the results of their spells, they turned and climbed over something large and wooden, too disfigured for them to recognise.

"_Stupefy!_" they cried together and dropped behind it, out of sight.

"Did we get her?" Hermione panted as she twisted around where she crouched to catch a glimpse of the witch.

Ginny peered around the side. "I think so..." she answered, but her tone was heavy with doubt.

Tremulously moving away from the safety of the smouldering wooden pile, Hermione searched for any sign of Bellatrix. Her head snapped around at a maniacal cackle from behind her. Her eyes stared down the pointed tip of the walnut and dragon heartstring wand she loathed so much, her eyes drifting to the wand's true owner.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

"Ginny—!"

Her arms flew around the girl's slim waist as she bodily pushed Ginny to the ground, her wand pressed tightly against Ginny's. A jet of green connected with wood and with a sickening crack, Ginny's wand split and then shattered into countless pieces, embedding themselves like angry wasps indiscriminately into flesh. Pain lanced through her left arm as she fell beside Ginny and she held it close to her heaving chest as she glared hatred at the pervertedly laughing witch.

"You foul, disgusting, loathsome, revolting whore!"

Her wand flew from the ground to her empty hand and she forced its point towards Bellatrix.

"_Cruc_—"

"_Stupefy! Protego!_"

Red streaked past the unfinished Unforgivable Curse and connected squarely to Bellatrix's chest, sending the witch flying backwards. Somewhere in the distance, Hermione heard the crash of Bellatrix's fall and Mrs. Weasley's furious challenge. Her searing hot wand dropped from her barely functional hand and she turned over onto her side, ignoring the pain in her arm as she shook Ginny by the shoulder.

"Ginny. Ginny! Ginny, wake up!"

Tears cascaded down her cheeks as she fumbled for a pulse. Her eyes darted to the girl's heavily bleeding arm and she grabbed her wand. "_E-Episkey!_" The wand burned at her fingers, the smell of her own burnt flesh making her dizzy. "_E-Episkey!__ Episkey!_" she whispered desperately, her voice shrill and hoarse as her wand spluttered in her burning hand.

She vaguely remembered reading about an incantation to heal magical wounds in one of Ginny's books and brokenly sung it to the wounds with her cracking voice as she slowly succumbed to her own rapidly bleeding arms. "Dittany…" she whispered deliriously when she felt a hand rest on her shoulder, trying to call her back before her entire world was enveloped by blackness.

---

_"In war, there are no unwounded soldiers."_

– _**Jose Narosky**_

---

Hermione wept even in her sleep until finally, she jolted awake, her hands grabbing at invisible wands hidden in the sheets in the dead of the night. Her bushy brown hair fell forward like a veil over her face as she sat up, burying her damp face into empty hands. She jerked her head up from trembling fingers at the soft pop of Apparation and she stared at the figure that approached her as familiar smelling robes wrapped around her and she clawed at them as sobs wracked through her body.

"Shh... Shh... It's going to be alright, Hermione..."

---

_What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?  
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.  
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle  
Can patter out their hasty orisons.  
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;  
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,  
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;  
And bugles calling for them from sad shires._

_What candles may be held to speed them all?  
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes  
Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.  
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;  
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,  
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds._  
–_**Wilfred Owen, Anthem for Doomed Youth**_


End file.
